Take Me Home
by BritishTraveller
Summary: They say that when you die, your whole life flashes before your eyes. Arthur Kirkland is no exception. The only thing is... Does he regret any of the choices he's made in life? -ON HIATUS-
1. Arthur Kirkland and Francis Bonnefoy

**Chapter One – Arthur Kirkland and Francis Bonnefoy**

They say that when you die, your whole life flashes before your eyes. Arthur Kirkland is no exception.

Arthur Kirkland and Francis Bonnefoy. Where do you begin? Well, let us start at the beginning.

Arthur Kirkland and Francis Bonnefoy were 'friends' long before they became a couple; actually, 'friends' is a very generous word for the relationship the two men had. In all honesty, it was more of a love-hate relationship, which consisted mostly of insults, arguments and full on fights.

Blonde hair and blue eyes; the perfect combination.

The perfect combination for a handsome French man.

The perfect Frenchman in this equation being Francis.

Francis Bonnefoy was brought up in a town not far from Paris, France, where he lived sibling less with his parents until the ripe old age of 21 when his mother and father kicked him out. From there, he decided to make something of his life. Sick of his parents telling him how he 'will amount to nothing!' Francis vowed to do the exact opposite. So what better place to start then England?

Arthur, on the other hand, was brought up in Greater Manchester, England. The same country a certain young Frenchman was going to move to. Since birth, Arthur was mostly brought up by his brothers, seeing as though his parents were out most of the time: doing drugs, drinking and terrorising the rest of the neighbourhood.

His mother and father rarely came home, only arriving to check up on their children and give a few lectures about how they were all mistakes. You could say Arthur learnt his colourful vocabulary quite young.

The eldest son, Ewan, was in charge most of the time. Ewan had fiery red hair, an unusual colour considering it was natural. Liam and Declan were the second oldest; the two boys were almost as tall as Ewan and looked rather similar, the only big difference being the colour of their hair. Where Ewan's was a fiery red, borderline brown, Liam and Declan's hair was a light ginger. If 'Strawberry Blonde' were an actual colour, that'd be theirs.

After Ewan, Liam and Declan was Dylan. Dylan, a quiet boy with light brown hair, was the son who got along most with Arthur, the second youngest who shared Dylan's love for magic and all sorts of wacky stuff.

Arthur had sandy blonde hair and vibrant, emerald green eyes; unlike his brothers who all had light green irises. The only other exception to that was Peter, the youngest of the Kirkland brothers.

Peter Kirkland was an accident. But then again, so were the other brothers. The only big thing that set them apart was the fact that he had blue eyes and had a twenty year age gap between Ewan and himself.

So, that's the Kirklands for you. A family of eight, although most of the time they considered themselves a family of six, in the centre of Greater Manchester. What could go wrong?

Anyway, back to Arthur and Francis. The pair's first meeting was in the library at the University of West London. Arthur was studying English Language and English Literature at the time, and was browsing through the Shakespeare selection, when he bumped into Francis. The Frenchman was being a nuisance; leaning against the bookshelf Arthur needed to get to. A quiet "Excuse me," came from Arthur's mouth, and when Francis didn't reply, he repeated himself. And Arthur hated repeating himself. "Excuse me."

"Oh, I am s- Mon Dieu! What are _those_?" enquired the Frenchman, pointing an erect index finger into Arthur's face rather rudely.

"What the hell are you talking about, you incessant wanker?"

"_Those_." Came the heavily accented reply. It was only then that the Brit realised he was talking about his eyebrows.

"My eyebrows?"

"Eyebrows? Mon Cher, they are _not_ eyebrows. They are beasts!"

Arthur rolled his eyes. Really, after 18 years you'd think someone would be used to the fact people would point and stare at their face, exclaiming things like 'Holy crap, is that two caterpillars?' and 'Oh wow, those things probably have their own orbit.'

"I'd appreciate it a lot if you didn't refer to my eyebrows as beasts, thank you."

"But… How- How can you see?"

"What the fuck, are you high or something? They are _eyebrows_, something everybody has on their faces. Can you understand that or is it true that all Frogs are brain dead?"

Francis gasped and put a perfectly manicured hand to his chest in mock offence, "Oh, how you wound me, sir."

Groggily rubbing his face, the Englishman sighed. "Please could you move so I can retrieve my book?"

"Oh yes, of course." Francis smirked and very slowly edged himself away from the bookshelf to prevent his acquaintance from leaving too soon. Once Arthur had a hold of the script version of 'Romeo and Juliet', Francis decided to lean back against the bookshelf and held out his hand. "My name is Francis, by the way. Francis Bonnefoy."

Giving a crooked half smile, Arthur took the soft hand and shook it, "Arthur. Arthur Kirkland."

For the next few weeks the two continued to meet at one o'clock in the library. Each time, Arthur would be selecting a new Shakespeare script and Francis would always be hovering nearby. Every meeting would consist of the two bickering and eventually being thrown out.

One day, mid-July, Francis turned around and asked Arthur if he wanted to join him at the cinema. Even if Arthur wasn't fond of the idea, a gentleman could never decline, right? So in the end, after a quarrel or two, Arthur accepted. To say Francis was overjoyed would be an understatement.

'I Love You, Phillip Morris' was the film Francis chose to watch; _who chooses to watch a film like this with another guy?_ Arthur thought to himself as soon as the gay sex scene came on. "Francis, why are we watching this? I don't know if I'm altogether comfortable with it…"

"That's not what your crotch is saying, Mon Cher." Francis chuckled, glancing at Arthur's crotch which, surprisingly, had a completely different reaction to Arthur.

It was on that day that Arthur realised he was gay. He also realised Francis was, too.

The rest of July ended pretty quickly for the newly formed duo. Both men realised how much the other meant to them, and before long they had made a pact to stay frenemies for ever.

In August Francis introduced Arthur to his two best friends and roommates, Antonio and Gilbert.

Antonio was a Spaniard the same height as Arthur and Francis at 5' 9". Along with his vibrant green eyes and messy brunette hair, he was often seen sporting a red shirt and jeans, and came to England to study biology. He loved plants, specifically tomatoes. All _Antonio_ Fernández _Carriedo _wanted to do was get away from Spain and start a new life in wonderful old England… Just like his friend Gilbert Beilschmidt. Gilbert, an albino of the same height as 'Toni, had come all the way from East Germany with his blonde haired blue eyed brother, Ludwig. Their parents had become bored of their normal day-to-day lifestyle and so decided to begin a new life in the UK with their two sons.

Arthur smiled throughout the pair's ramblings of their respective European countries; it was only when he got back to his dorm that he collapsed on his bed, letting out a muffled "kill me."

From that day on, Arthur saw a lot more of Antonio and Gilbert than he'd ever anticipated.


	2. Captain Carriedo

**Chapter Two – Captain Carriedo.**

After meeting the two fellow Europeans, August went by rather fast. Arthur, Francis, Gilbert and Antonio decided the best place to meet (after being banned from spending more than 10 minutes in the library at any given time) was the café down the road.

Antonio would order a glass of tomato juice, Gilbert would have a 'good old'' German beer, Francis would order a coffee and Arthur would decide upon a nice cup of tea.

None of them really noticed when it became a daily occurrence… It just happened. Each day the four men would learn something new about the others, whether it was hearing how Antonio would spend his summers back in Spain with his family tomato picking or how Arthur thought he was the infamous 'Captain Kirkland, mighty ruler of the Seven Seas' in a past life.

Whenever Arthur would mention Captain Kirkland, the others, who called themselves the 'Bad Touch Trio', would laugh. "Come on, Arthur. Do you really believe in all that past life stuff?" Antonio asked one day, sipping his usual drink. When Arthur nodded, Antonio smirked. "Tell us more then."

"Well," Arthur started, putting down the tea cup on the wooden table, "I was the feared Captain Kirkland; sailor, fighter, ruler of the Seven Seas! You already knew that though."

Playing along with Arthur's little game, the three men nodded along. "Captain Kirkland was one of the most feared pirates of his day! He even took on the Spanish; and he won." Taking a glance at Antonio, he smirked. "Captain Kirkland's favourite nemesis was a fellow Captain, Captain Carriedo; a dirty Spaniard."

Francis and Gilbert laughed. "Oui, he is, isn't he?" grinned Francis, looking at Antonio. The brunette rolled his eyes, "So, Arthur, tell me more about this Captain Carriedo!"

Arthur grinned. "Oh, of course! Captain Carriedo was another feared captain. Like Captain Kirkland, Carriedo was a fearsome pirate! Vicious and after just about anyone's booty. And not just gold; if you know what I mean." He winked, his emerald green eyes shifting back to Antonio. "One day, Kirkland decided 'Hm. That dastardly Carriedo fellow is steelin' all me booty! I better get 'im.' So he did. The English pirate made his way to Spain, offering death to any navy or man who stood in his way." By now, the group was listening closely, like a group of children who were glued to their parent's bedtime story. Arthur made some gestures with his hand, as if he were swinging a sword around. "Soon, the pirate found himself in the Mediterranean; face to face with Carriedo. They had a thrilling fight, one Kirkland was eager for, but Carriedo wasn't. He wasn't ready. Kirkland had come without any warning, and Carriedo wasn't prepared. What could he do? He tried his best."

A smug grin found itself on Francis' face, and the Frenchman was sniggering. "Sounds like 'Toni when he's got an exam."

"Shut up, Franny! I'm trying to listen!" hissed Gilbert, who was holding his beer in both hands, elbows and forearms on the light wooden table in front of them, eager for Arthur to resume his story.

Chuckling, Arthur carried on. "Anyway, so Carriedo and Kirkland are fighting, right? Well… Due to unforeseen circumstances, Kirkland slipped and his trusty sword was too far away…" The three Europeans gasped and their eyes were wide. "Carriedo was stunned. This never happened to the mighty Kirkland! What should he do? As quick as a flash, Carriedo had his shining sword pressing against the Englishman's Adam's apple; a single blood drop running down his pale, slender neck." Arthur couldn't help but smile at his friend's reactions, how they were all on the edge of their seats… It made him feel happy. Happy that something he loved doing interested people; got them hooked, wanting more. "'Do it, Carriedo.' Hissed Kirkland, his green eyes staring into identical ones. "'I dare you.'"

"Oh, I don't want to find out! Does he die? Kirkland dies, doesn't he? Oh, Mon Cher, it is too sad!" Francis suddenly exclaimed, knocking his empty coffee mug off the table and putting his head in his hands.  
Gilbert and Antonio rolled their eyes; "Jesus H Christ, Bonnefoy. Man up! It's just a story." At the German's remark, Francis lifted his head up and gaped.  
"Just a story? _Just a story?_ My, this is a masterpiece!"

"Ahem." Interjected Arthur, "Carriedo smirked. 'Ah, Captain Kirkland. Finally, I have you where I want you. You have no idea how much I have desired this moment, mi amigo.' Kirkland flinched and then his mouth turned into a smirk. 'Oh really, Carriedo? I don't believe you have it in you.'" When Arthur averted his eyes beyond Gilbert's pure white hair, he noticed several other tables had taken to listening, too. They were straining their ears, trying to get a snippet of the Brit's story. "'I didn't think so either, Kirkland. But, eh, amigo, I don't know. I think something in me just… clicked.' Antonio Carriedo smirked and laughed manically. His crew knew not to get involved, and so did Kirkland's. You couldn't mess with two _pirates_ in the midst of a bloody battle, could you? While Captain Carriedo was distracted, Captain Kirkland raised his leg and kicked the Spaniard's sword out of his hands with his worn leather boot. 'Next time you should keep a good watch on your prey.' He chucked as he grabbed his own sword. Now he had two; his and Carriedo's. 'Nice, not much though.' He muttered, rotating the unfamiliar sword in his slender hands, 'A brilliant captain like _you_ using a sword like _this_?' laughing again, Captain Arthur Kirkland glanced at the other. 'You stole so much from me, Carriedo. I'm not sure whether to kill you here or not.' He contemplated for a moment or so, the off-white ruffle around his neck and wrists fluttering in the wind that swept across the quarterdeck. Kirkland shook his head, still chuckling. The dirty blonde bangs in his face swished slightly when he moved and his large, worn black hat with a gold rim and cream feathers slid further to the back of his head. 'Hm. I might have to give this one to you, Carriedo.' He muttered under his breath, barely audible. It was only when the Spaniard grinned, acting as if he'd won already, that Kirkland changed his mind."

Antonio's mouth was wide and he didn't even notice when a bluebottle flew near it. "Hurry, mi amigo! We're all eager to hear the rest, si?" Arthur shrugged and took a sip of his tea, which was not stone cold.  
"Are you?" he asked casually. When everyone in the café nodded, Arthur was slightly taken aback. "Wow. Well, erm, I guess I'll carry on then…" he grumbled, shoving his tea to the side. "Sorry, where were again? Oh, oh yes. Kirkland was fuming. How could that blasted Spaniard think he'd won? He'd only suggested it; and no one trusts a pirate. 'Or not.' the Englishman laughed, throwing Captain Carriedo's sword overboard and walking towards said pirate. The tail of his long red and gold doublet swished in the breeze and the small hoop earrings dangled from his earlobes. The great pirate marched forward towards his nemesis as the other backed away, fear flushing in his light green eyes. Before Antonio knew it, his back was against the solid wood of the main mast. The man sighed and pressed his lips together before taking a deep breath. He closed his eyes, the beautiful green colour disappearing briefly and Arthur could hear him muttering quiet prayers to his God. Captain Kirkland stood over the Spaniard, his faded dark brown leather boots resting on Carriedo's beautiful maroon lengthy doublet. Using his treasured cutlass, Kirkland tapped it upwards, effectively knocking off the elegant hat the Spaniard wore. It fell onto the dirty wooden planks with a soft _duff_; the silky red feathers that sat on top graced the floor, picking up bits of dirt and dust.

"The silence was so eerie; Kirkland loved it. He'd managed to get Carriedo, his rival, into such a vulnerable position and was making both crews watch. _'Don't intervene', he'd told them before, 'if anything happens between Carriedo and I, stay out of it. It is between _him _and _me_.'_ Kirkland grinned, showing off his teeth and laughed like a psychotic man. 'I can't believe we're here, Carriedo. I really can't. The Ottomans may get in my way, but you won't. I won't let you.'"

The silence in Arthur's story mirrored the silence in the café at the time; nobody said a word. The only sounds were the odd car zooming past and the coffee machine buzzing irritatingly. People had stopped being furtive and were instead sat patiently, all eyes on the storyteller. "Hey, can I get some more tea?" asked the Brit, whose throat was beginning to get scratchy due to all the talking he was doing. Not soon after, a cup of piping hot tea was placed in front of him and he took it, nodding thanks to the waiter. After a few sips, he carried on. "Ahem." He coughed, thumping his chest. "Sorry about that; went down the wrong way. So, onwards with the story…

Carriedo looked left at his crew, and right, where Kirkland's were. He sighed softly and focused his green eyes on Kirkland. 'Kill me. Por favor, mátame. Quickly.' The Spaniard took a deep breath and braced himself for the darkness that would soon overcome his being.  
Arthur smirked the same way he always did, one that never failed to give Antonio shivers. 'I guess I could… But what would be the fun in that, eh?' Captain Kirkland replied, his Cheshire cat grin only becoming wider. He slid his cutlass back into its holder in his belt and crouched down, his boots squeaking against the creaking wood. 'Give me your doubloons, Carriedo.' Antonio frowned, why was he doing this? Surely he'd just take them after he'd killed him?

But nevertheless, Captain Carriedo reluctantly handed over any and all doubloons he had on his person. 'Oh, an' them broaches. They'll do lovely. Ta.' He handed them over too. 'You know what, Carriedo? I'll 'ave your clothes, too.'"

Francis automatically chuckled, letting out a perverted like laugh. "Oooh! Sex may not be appropriate for this time in the day, mon ami."

Rolling his vibrant eyes, the Brit downed his tea and adjusted the dark green jumper that was heavy on his shoulders. "Once Carriedo had given Captain Kirkland his most expensive attire, he slunk back against the wooden mast, trying not to seem too scared. 'A-are you going to kill me?' he asked, shuffling slightly so he was in the sunlight. 'If you are-'  
Arthur cut him off with a simple: 'No.' Carriedo didn't understand. If Kirkland wasn't going to kill him… what was he going to do? As if the English pirate could read his mind, he spoke. 'I'm going to do this, instead.'" Arthur took a pause, watching as his 'audience' waited with baited breath. "The mighty Captain Kirkland swung his right arm down, grabbing Antonio Carriedo's left forearm and dragging him upwards. One of his seamen threw him some thick rope, and another aided him in tying up Carriedo to the main mast. He was half naked. 'Oh, do stop struggling, Carriedo. You're only goin' to give yourself rope burn, you know.' He laughed heartily, brushing a dirty hand against the Spaniard's somewhat cleaner tanned cheek. Antonio tossed his head back and forth, shouting obscure things to his worthless crew who wouldn't aid him in the slightest." Adjusting his glasses and running a hand through his messy blonde hair, Arthur smiled. "When Captain Kirkland had successfully located the Spaniard's treasure, he got his crew to take it back to their ship. Once he'd threatened them, to make sure they wouldn't steal any of the booty that wasn't rightfully theirs, he turned back to his rival and flashed him a grin. 'For now, Carriedo, I'll let your sorry arse be.' And with that, he left the ship. Not bothered in the slightest for a new one or the leftover crew that hadn't been selected to be on his own. 'Ta-ra, ye' dirty Spaniard.'"

Arthur Kirkland, the University student, looked up and was surprised when everyone in the café clapped. "Oh, mon ami that was brilliant!" Francis exclaimed above the loud clapping. 'Toni agreed. "Si, even I liked it, amigo!"  
Even Gilbert did; "Ja. It was pretty awesome, Artie!"

The Englishman grinned.

"Thanks, guys. Told you I used to be Captain Kirkland!"

"Oui, you did. Let's just hope you have more stories like that to entertain me for the rest of your life." Francis said, smiling. And oh boy, did Arthur Kirkland have a story to tell.


End file.
